Who's There
Sam thought she heard a noise downstairs. The noise of breaking glass echoed through the house. Her muscles tightened. “What was that,” she whispered to herself. She thought she was the only one in the house. She tip- toed to her window and pulled back the curtain, just enough for her to see the storm outside. She paused, “Is that,” she took a deep breath. “Gasoline?” It couldn’t be. She paced her room in fear. Images flashed though her mind of her childhood, when her house burnt down, and she was stuck inside. She closed her eyes and breathed in the strong smell of the gasoline. The sound of a cat scratching at her door woke her from the memory. She walked towards the door, slowly putting her ear up to it. “I don’t have a cat,” she locked the door. “It must be the neighbors, but how did he get in?”
Every bone in her body tensed and hundreds of questions ran through her head. Her hand gripped the door knob. She wanted to turn it, but couldn’t bring herself to. The cat was gone and the house was now silent. She could hear her own heart beating 1000 beats a minute. She walked to her closet and grabbed the baseball bat she had in there from when she played softball. She inched towards the door. She turned the door knob and pulled it back slowly. She took a deep breath and stepped out into the dark hallway.
She turned the corner, her grip on the bat becoming tighter as she approached the stairs. As she reached the last step, she could hear the wind blowing through the open front door. She crept towards the door and slammed it closed. The smell of gasoline was fading away. She inched her way through the house, still holding the bat. As she got to the kitchen, she heard a noise, like someone was in there. She paused, took a deep breath, and turned the corner to go into the kitchen. A figure was standing at her refrigerator. She grabbed an apple off the counter and threw it at the shadow, hitting it in the middle of the back. Her body tensed and she closed her eyes, getting ready for who was going to turn around. “Ouch! You could’ve warned me before you threw an apple at me.” Sam dropped the bat. To her relief, it was her best friend Kate. “What are you doing here,” asked Sam, trying to catch her breath. “I looked out of my window and saw your door was open. I came to shut it for you but the storm got worse when I got to the porch. I was about to come to your room,” explained Kate. “I just want this night to be over,” cried Sam. She walked back to her room and Kate followed. They both laid down on the bed and fell asleep quickly.
The two girls woke up to a room filled with smoke. “I think the house is on fire,” yelled Kate. “We have to get out.” Sam was in shock. Kate ran and opened the door. When she looked down the hall, all she could see was smoke. She motioned to Sam and they ran down the stairs. The smoke was as thick as a cloud. When they got to the door, it was bolted shut. Sam started to panic. “How are we going to get out?” They could see the flames coming from the kitchen. The smell of smoke was so strong they could now taste it. Kate ran to the table by the stairs and grabbed a vase. She told Sam to stand back, but her body was frozen. Kate threw the vase at the window. The sound of the breaking glass was in slow motion. Kate dragged Sam’s hand & pulled her through the window. The two stood in in front of the burning house, mesmerized by the flames.
Sam couldn’t look at the house anymore. She looked down at her feet and saw something stuck under the bottom of her shoe: matches. She peeled them off, the packet still warm. She smelt a strong scent of cologne coming from the matches. Her heart sank; she only knew one person who wore it.
Lanie Drinnon, Suspense Narrative
Chronological Order
Lanie Drinnon, Suspense Narrative
Chronological Order